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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516408">Burning House</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neville_TheDevil/pseuds/Neville_TheDevil'>Neville_TheDevil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(not Peter and Stiles tho), Beta Peter, Canon Compliant, Edited, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finished, Implied non-con elements, M/M, Peter Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Sleep Walking, bated, do not copy to another site, inspired by a song</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:28:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neville_TheDevil/pseuds/Neville_TheDevil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter remembers being burnt: Being burnt again; coming back. Its a lot for one person to deal with. Maybe he'll finally have someone to help stop the nightmares.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was inspired by the song Burning House by Cam</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All I'm going to say is, Poor Peter :'(</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fire was always there in his dreams, burning him. His mind a constant conflagration of fear, anger and want: wanting to be free of the torment of the flames; wanting to not be alone – to have some comfort in his miserable desolate existence; to have revenge for whoever did this to him and his family.</p><p>His wants were never answered.</p><p>He remembered the moments as he woke up, having to move, being touched, even breathing – it all hurt. Existing was a persistent torture, in a state where he was unable to die, to end it. The worst part, for someone like Peter Hale, would be the fact that he could not move or speak, trapped in his mind. Being trapped in his own mind, a place he usually found comforting, was misery. Like most people, his mind had dark places he rarely delved into, but the coma forced him to dive into them – the worst parts of himself.</p><p>It's probably why he wasn’t himself when he healed. No, that’s not completely true, he was himself. It was just the best parts of him, the parts that made his family love him despite all his faults, had been concealed by all the snarky, maliciousness, cowardice and greed that he had never truly shown towards his family. What he became after he finally woke was a beast, a slave to his instincts and pain. He’d seen monsters before, hunted them and, back then while rampaging through Beacon Hills, killing his executioners, he saw one every time he looked in the mirror.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>I had a dream about a burning house</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were stuck inside; I couldn't get you out</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I lay beside you and pulled you close</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the two of us went up in smoke</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>It was just a dream. That’s what your parents would say after a nightmare when you’re a child. It’s not real. They would say, to try and hide the facts that your fears could become a reality.</p><p>Peter, he didn’t have a parent to vanquish his fears. They had already come true, anyway. His nightmares were just memories of being burnt alive, wrapping his body around whatever small child he could find. He thinks it could have been Cora, but he’d never know, as it was never in the police report from when they found his burnt husk of a body.</p><p>When he woke up in his room, at his nephew’s loft, screaming for his niece wondering why he didn’t have her in his arms anymore, but there was no-one there to hold him, comfort him. He was alone. Peter had gathered his shoes and run out of the loft towards the preserve. Though he stayed as far from his scorched broken house, as the memories – nightmares- were too much and he knew they would return fervently if he went back to that shell of a home.</p><p>He eventually wore himself out after running constantly till morning, feet muddy and healed from the abuse that his running caused. Peter collapsed in exhaustion, falling into a sleep which was finally restful as was too tired to even dream.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>I've been sleepwalking</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Been wondering all night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Trying to take what's lost and broke</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And make it right</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Peter had woken in places besides the loft before; it wasn’t uncommon.  That was why, when he woke up, only wearing his grey sweatpants, and realised he was not in his bed, rather on a hard dirt wooden floor, he didn’t panic. At first.</p><p>When he sniffed the air, not even moving his tired body, then he panicked. Peter’s body recoiled from the ground, seeing that he was in the house. <em>The</em> house. His body started shaking frantically, mind swirling with memories: burning; slicing her throat; burning again; dying; pulling his burnt body from beneath the earth.</p><p>He ran, it’s all he seemed to do anymore. </p><p>He fled the house as fast as he could running to all the way down the dirt read, toward the main road and out of the preserve. Luckily, he had fallen asleep on the sofa, so his phone was in the pocket of his sweatpants. He texted the only person that he didn’t mind seeing him like this, and that he thought would actually show up.</p><p>He lay down on the damp earth, catching his breath. Peter knew that seeing it would stir up emotions he’d been trying to supress ever since his resurrection.  Instinctively, he curled into himself, head tucked into his chest and arms, as if that could protect him from the world. Though Peter understood perfectly that something would always break the silence and ruin any peace he could find.</p><p>He could hear the distant sound of a run-down Jeep, slowly getting closer and closer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Next chapters much longer)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was subtle, the way she would touch him, caress his body in ways he knew she shouldn’t. At first, he would shy away from her touch, not used to the feeling of another’s hands upon his scared body. Over time, he got used to it, craved it even. His newly awakened wolf would latch onto anything she gave him, whether they be her touch or her seductive words.</p><p>As his mind began to become less clouded with hurt and pain, he finally realised what she was doing, and he became enraged. Somehow, though, she knew. Knew he was awake enough to hate her and that hate soured her own actions when it came to him.</p><p>The way she would be too rough with her movements and hurt his fragile healing body, proved that, as she didn’t try to make him care for her. Peter realised now, how her touch was tainted by evil intent and cold emotion.</p><p>She would still do the everyday chores of feeding, cleaning and changing him, like a new-born babe; weak and vulnerable, but with an air of malice and antipathy. She would move him roughly, not caring what her actions did to his immobile body, as if he were just an object with no humanity, no emotions.</p><p>It’s was a dehumanising thing.</p><p>The times she would whisper in his ear disturbing predatory words made him wish he could pick up his useless body and run.  The way she would place her palms on his legs, too close, made him want to beg for the strength to rip her throat out. He didn’t think that was what she wanted him for, but it was what she was going to get when he healed.</p><p>And he did, kill her that is. Peter didn’t get to claw out her throat like he wanted, but the sound of her fragile neck snapping in his tight grip was satisfying enough. After she was dead, though, he was never touched again, besides his nephew tearing his throat open, and taking the Alpha spark from his soul.</p><p>It’s amazing how something so simple as touch, can be so important and vital for a wolf- for anyone really. And when it became tainted, the effect could be deadly.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Love isn't all that it seems</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I did you wrong</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll stay here with you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until this dream is gone</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Getting a text from Peter Hale at 2 o’clock at night was a startling thing even though Stiles had already been awake, on a google binge, when his phone pinged.</p><p>The text said <em>‘Can you pick me up from the road leading up to the Hale house?’</em></p><p>He was thoroughly unnerved for many reasons. Firstly, the text lacked the classic Peter Hale snark and arrogance to it, almost sounding vulnerable (for a Hale at least); Secondly, why on god’s green earth was Peter anywhere near the Hale house?</p><p>Stiles had noted how much Peter stayed away from his old brunt down home, not an unsurprising thing considering what had happened to him there. Whenever the pack had to do something near there, whether the monster of the week was sighted around it or someone was just patrolling that area, Peter made an excuse for why he couldn’t or rather wouldn’t, or just straight up left – not that anyone except Stiles noticed. So why was Peter there, now?</p><p>Of course, Stiles would never deny Peter this small favour, as the werewolf rarely ever asked anyone for anything, probably expecting to be denied out of hand. Sadly, from the other pack members, he probably would have been.</p><p>He sent his response to Peter, a simple ‘OK, I’ll be right there’. Hastily shutting down his laptop, Stiles grabbed his keys and phone and texted his dad about needing to pick up a pack member. He tried hard not to lie to his dad, least of all because he was pretty bad at it, but mostly because, after so many ‘Big Bads’ Stiles felt like a no lying policy would be good for both their physical and emotional health, and so far it had worked. He didn’t however, want to betray Peter’s confidence, so Stiles explained what he could, without spilling too much about the pack member he was picking up.</p><p>Stiles began the short trip, getting increasingly worried, like he does with everything, as he got closer to his destination. He felt his heart plummet, when he saw the curled-up ball of wolf lying in the grass. The jeep was the only thing lighting up the road besides the crescent moon and stars scattering the dark night sky. The wolf’s shadow was tiny, reflecting just how small the huddled shape was.</p><p>Getting out of the jeep as slowly and as quietly as he could, Stiles called out to the wolf calmly, “Peter? Are you ok?”</p><p>There was no reply so, not wanting to spook the predator, he hunched low and started progressing towards the were’. Luckily, there wasn’t a negative reaction from him. He got close and reached out his hand stopping just shy of touching him, unsure if it would be welcome.</p><p>“Peter?”</p><p>-</p><p>Peters eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was content. <em>Stiles</em>.</p><p>His Stiles was here, so close he could almost reach out and touch him. The wolf was so comfortable curled up, but he wanted his Stiles to be curled with him. Figuring that leaning into that touch would have to be the compromise, Peter uncurled himself and crawled over to his human. Peter was so close that he could just bury his face in the pale, mole ridden neck of the boy. So, of course, he did just that.</p><p>-</p><p>He seemed like his wolf had completely taken over. Stiles tried to not imagine what could have forced such a primal response in the were’ – to hide in his wolf.</p><p>Trying to be calm while having a fully-grown ass werewolf’s fangs so close to his neck was a struggle. He didn’t know how Peter would react if his heart rate started to shoot up so he stayed as calm as he could. It was just Peter. Creepy Uncle Peter, not some rabid werewolf who wants to rip his throat out – anymore.</p><p>Rubbing the wolf’s back and calling out his name, made Peter stiffen. That, in turn, made Stiles stiffen mirroring the reaction of the Predator in his arms. Peter unlatched his face from Stiles’ neck and looked into the boy’s eyes.</p><p><em>“Stiles?” </em>He questioned; head tilted slightly.</p><p>The boy just sat awkwardly, “Um, Are you ok? You kind of went full wolf there, buddy.”</p><p>Peter looked around his surroundings, almost as if he’d forgotten where he was and that he’d even texted Stiles to pick him up. “You asked me to come for you, remember?”</p><p>Peter looked back at Stiles and nodded, “Yes, I think. Can you take me home please? I probably could have run but it’s a little far and I didn’t want to risk being seen, I-I also don’t have any shoes apparently, so…” He looked down nervously. It worried Stiles seeing Peter so unlike himself.</p><p>“Come on. Let’s get in the car.” Peter went complacently, following Stiles’ lead and entering the passenger seat.</p><p>Stiles started the car and headed back towards the way he came. Peter was quiet during the ride back. Stiles had a million questions on the tip of this tongue, eager to spew out like word vomit, but Stiles was aware enough to understand Peter wasn’t exactly up for being interrogated. So he held his tongue.</p><p>It was a real testament to how out of it Peter was, that he didn’t even notice that Stiles had been heading in the other direction, away from the wolf’s apartment, and instead going to the Stilinski house. Only after they arrived and Stiles had parked the car on the curb, did Peter look up. He turned to Stiles and asked, “Why are we here, I thought you were going to drop me off at mine?”</p><p>Stiles braced his hand on the wheel, trying to gather his words, a thing that usually came naturally to him, even when he was nervous or rather especially when he was nervous, but yet tonight they failed him.</p><p>“I understand something bad happened tonight, and I understand you don’t want to talk about it,” Peter began to open his mouth to interrupt, but Stiles carried on regardless, wanting to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “I also understand that werewolves, especially born werewolves, are very tactile creatures and that you aren’t very close with the other Pack members, because of your past and them being idiots for not seeing past it. I’m offering me as a cuddle buddy for tonight, if you want it.”</p><p>Stiles looked forward, waiting for the were’ to either accept or deny him.  It was a few moments before he let himself look at Peter. When he turned, he was amazed. It seemed like he’d stunned the man into silence. Peter’s eyes were so open and hopeful, it made Stiles look away, his own emotions threatening to bubble to the surface.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Stiles looked back at the wolf, unsure if he didn’t imagine it, “Okay?”</p><p>The wolf nodded, “Okay.”</p><p>Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, “Okay. Okay, good. We should go inside, you can borrow some of my cloths if you’d prefer, your trousers look a bit ruined from the ground, a-and you’re kind of shirtless right now.” He stuttered, trying to bring some humour into the intense and awkward conversation, but he got no snarky reply back.</p><p>“Let’s go, then.” He got out of the car, with a wolf on his tail.</p><p>When they got into the bedroom, after climbing the stairs, Stiles handed Peter a pile of cloths. The were’ took them and headed towards the bathroom to get changed. Stiles did his own night routine, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats. When Peter came out of the bathroom, Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at seeing Peter wearing his sweats, sans the shirt he had given him. A possessive feeling he’d normally associated with wolves began to blossom inside him.</p><p>Ignoring his own crazy machinations, he shook his head to dismiss the errant ideas blooming and asked about the shirt. Peter just passed it back to him still folded as if he hadn’t even thought to try it on, “It didn’t fit.”</p><p>Stiles flushed slightly, cheery flesh colouring one side of his neck and cheeks. “Oh, uhm, I don’t think I have anything else, so… never mind then.” Stiles texted his dad to let him know he’d allowed a wolf into his bed, just to make sure his father didn’t rush in when he came home, guns blazing and all that.</p><p>Clumsily, Stiles climbed into the double bed and laid straight back on the side closest to the wall. He wanted to give Peter the freedom to decide how he would lay down. However, what he wasn’t expecting was the wolf to lay huddled into Stiles side, cosying in with a soft purr. That sound more than anything, was the sobering element that shook Stiles out of his stupor, reminding him how tragic Peter had looked when Stiles found him. Reminding him why he’d offered himself for cuddle privileges in the first place. Stiles curled his arms around the wolf, breathing in the calming scent of Peter.</p><p>They both felt content to lie there forever, fall into a sleep filled with no nightmares. The wolf opened his eyes, meeting the honey-brown which were already looking back. He looked down, nervously. A feeling Peter was not used to but for tonight it was all he seemed to feel, beside the fear and terror his dreams had created.</p><p>“I’ve been having dreams of burning. Of the fire. Of being in the hospital. Of dying. It’s been getting worse and I think tonight I sleep-walked to the house, ‘cause I don’t remember going there. I never go there.” Peter whimpers softly and huddles closer, as if that were even possible with how close he already was to the boy.</p><p>“Peter… I-I never apologised for burning you all those years ago, I’m sorry. It was cruel and thoughtless. It never should have ended like that but I’m glad you’re here now.” It was something Stiles had been wanting to say ever since Peter came back to life. The were’ was always so confident and snarky, but Stiles always noticed the sadness and fear that no one else did. Peter was hurting and there was no one to help him. Maybe, Stiles thought, he could help him from now on.</p><p>“I forgave you long ago Stiles. I was insane back then, or more so than I am now. It had to be done.” Peter paused then, eyes going distant as he seemed to contemplate how to phrase his next words, “I’m alive, but I’m not. The fire, it took a part of me away. My family were what kept me good, kept me from become the monster I became without them. All I am now is an empty shell of what I once was, just like that burnt up house which should of been condemned years ago.”</p><p>“It’ll get better with time Peter.”</p><p>The wolf looked back up to Stiles, “I don’t want to dream anymore. It hurts to remember, Stiles.”</p><p>“I’ll stay with you then. Until there’s no more dreams.”</p><p>“Will you?” He asked, eyes gaining a sliver of brightness, of hope.</p><p>“Yes, Peter. Always.” Stiles said without hesitation and he meant it whole heartedly. He didn’t even have to think about it. It seemed a fore-drawn conclusion to him.</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>“Go to sleep, my wolf.”</p><p>Closing his eyes. Peter drifted off easily and for the first time in a long time he finally had a peaceful sleep, protected by his Stiles. Kept safe from all that would try to hurt him, even if that included himself.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Love isn't all that it seems</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I did you wrong</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll stay here with you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until this dream is gone</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for any comments and Kudos. I enjoyed writing this, a lot.<br/>Isn't Steter just the best thing ever?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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